


Disintegration

by marinaandthediamonds



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Blood, F/M, Kidnapping, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 22:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8865784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marinaandthediamonds/pseuds/marinaandthediamonds
Summary: The reader is an assasin from Brooklyn, sent to dispose of James Moriarty. Things don't go as planned.





	

You wiped the blood from your mouth on the back of your hand, glaring at the man standing across from you. "That's fucking vile, man." You mutter. The man raises an eyebrow. "Oh, you think THAT'S bad? Sweetheart, you haven't seen the half of it." He smirks, staring down at you condescendingly. The hatred and contempt for him practically radiates off you. He defined the word 'disgusting'. 

"You're lucky I ain't killed you yet, mister." You spit back. He chuckles.   
"You're lucky I haven't slapped you for that despicable grammar."   
You grimace and push yourself to your feet angrily. Raising your hands, you swing a punch at him, hitting him square in the jaw.   
"With love, from the states, you son of a bitch." Blood spurts from his nose and he scoffs, reaching up and clenching the bridge of his nose.   
"Unbelievable. Do you know how expensive this suit is? Westwood, you uncultured swine. Do you even know who I AM?" He asked. 

You shrugged.   
"All I know is that you're bad news, sir, and that you're on my client's hit list. And that's all I need to know. It isn't any of my business what you did to cross them. The only thing that's my business is making sure you're dead and gone by the end of tonight, and that I get my 7 grand.  
He frowned. "Who's your client?"   
"Ain't none of your busi-"

He took you by surprise, slamming you against the wall, pinning your wrists against the cold bricks. He smiled vaguely, looking you over, looking for something. What he was looking for in you, you had no clue. His breathing became heavy.

"I'm going ask you one more time nicely, and if you don't comply, I'll ask one more time NOT so nicely. Who is your client, young lady?" He asked. His breath was hot against your cheek.   
"Listen, that's undisclosable information-"  
He slammed your wrists against the wall again, his grip tightening. You said nothing, but you winced slightly.  
"If you don't disclose this information, there is a 100% chance of death being in your cards tonight, dear. Not to mention that 'undisclosable' isn't even a word."

"It's a word if I fucking say it is!" You yelled and stamped on his foot. He didn't budge. Huh. That always seemed to work in the movies.   
"I'm not going to comment on your attempt to scuff my shoes. It was rather rude."  
"I coulda sworn you said you weren't gonna comment."  
"I say a lot of things, don't I? I said I was going to kill you, didn't I? And yet here you are." 

He smirked and brushed some hair behind your ear.   
"Huh. You're rather pretty. Feisty, too. You've got heart. I like that in a person. Perhaps I'll have to keep you around as a live in pet."  
You growled at him and fought to get out of his grip.  
"Live in pet? Like some sort of cat or something? What the fuck is wrong with you, mister? I'm a fucking human BEING!"  
You roared, fighting harder. He laughed again.   
"You know, a lot of girls would kill to be offered a position like this."  
"Yeah, well. I ain't a lot of people."  
"Hm, yes, true. You have got a point, don't you?" He hummed, smiling thoughtfully.

"I ain't some part of your game. I ain't even from England! Im from Brooklyn! And honestly, I'm gettin' real annoyed at you AND my client. I'm here to kill idiots, not fuckin' sociopaths! This is way out of my area of expertise!" You groaned.   
"Right, right. Back to the client. Who are they, exactly?"   
"I told you, I ain't tellin' you!"   
"I would hate to ruin that pretty face of yours, but I will hurt you. Don't try bargaining or begging either. It'll only excite me."

You screamed, as loud as you possibly could. With any luck, someone would hear you. Anyone. He only laughed.  
"Yes, go on. Scream for me. It won't change a thing, now, will it?"

You groaned and collapsed in his grasp, giving up. It didn't seem that there was a way out of this.   
"Fine. You want his name? Fine! Fuckin' have it! Holmes! Mycroft Holmes! Now let the fuck GO of me! I ain't the one you want!" You yelled at him. 

His face grew cold for a moment, before returning to the constant confident smirk he seemed to have plastered on his face. "No. No, I'm afraid I won't be able to do that. You know to much, you see."

"Too much?! Too MUCH?! Mister, I don't even know your name! I don't know jack SHIT!" You pleaded loudly, tears streaming down your face. He grinned wolfishly.  
"James. My name is James Moriarty."  
"Great! But that ain't gonna matter after you let me go, and I never see your psychotic ass ever again! I'm going straight back to the states and I'm never doin' work for English bitches ever again!"  
He laughed again. Jesus, was everything a joke to this guy? What kinda sadist freak was he?

"No, I told it to you because you'll be staying with me. Forever. If you're good and go willingly, I won't hurt you. But just remember that my, in your words, 'psychotic ass', just adores hearing your delightful scream."  
You bit your lip, trying to be strong and stop the tears.

"I'm not going ANYWHERE with you! You're insane!" He rolled his eyes.  
"And you're an assassin. Tell me something I don't know, why don't you?"  
And with that, he threw you over his shoulder. "Hey! HEY! Let me down! I'll sue!" You cried. He remained silent as he carried you out of the building. Eventually, you quieted down, grumbling to yourself. "Unbelievable. And they say guys with accents are innocent." You muttered.


End file.
